


...And One Time She Wished She Hadn't

by Highlander_II



Category: House M.D.
Genre: 5 Times, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-24
Updated: 2009-09-24
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, this was written as a result of a prompt from this meme over <a href="http://highlander-ii.dreamwidth.org/308743.html?nc=25#comments">here on my DW</a>.  Specifically this <a href="http://highlander-ii.dreamwidth.org/308743.html?thread=1803271#cmt1803271">comment from katernater</a> (b/c it's always her fault! XD).  (Yes, this is from 2009.  I was skimming through things on my journal and found that I'd teased it, but never posted it... whoops!)</p><p>This is the 'one time she wishes she hadn't' slept with House.</p><p>Spoilers for House, MD: "Fetal Position"</p>
            </blockquote>





	...And One Time She Wished She Hadn't

"Cameron," came the half-familiar voice through the phone as she lifted it to her ear. He hadn't even waited for her to say 'hello'.

"House?" She was almost sure it was him, but he didn't sound like himself. "What's wrong?"

"Come over."

She waited to hear if there was more. "What?" she asked when he didn't continue. "House, what's..." The line went dead.

That was a bad sign. 

He never called her. And never this late unless they were in the middle of a case. They'd just solved the case. There was nothing left that he'd need her for. But his voice. That shaky, almost _broken_ quality to it, didn't fit. Something wasn't right.

She tried not to rush over. Not wanting him to think she was worried, though she was sure that was exactly why he'd called her - to worry her. He called her because he knew she'd come. She knew it. The moment she picked up the phone, she knew.

Why did she let herself get roped into these things?

In her car, by the curb in front of his place, she leaned against the steering wheel, waited. She waited for her heart to stop pounding, for things to start making sense, for her mind to realize this was a bad idea and convince her body to cooperate and drive herself back home. It didn't work. Her damned, traitorous feet got her out of the car and to his door.

Her hand was knocking on his door before she realized what she was doing. As much fun as it might be on a normal day to knock on his door and run away, it was too late to leave now. He knew she was there. No way out.

 _I'll just make sure he's okay,_ her mind provided while she waited, as justification for her presence on his doorstep.

That justification worked until he opened the door and she caught the look on his face. 'The stance, the way he leaned heavily on the door. It broke her heart. 'No way she could just leave now.

He nodded for her to step inside and gave her room. She glanced over her shoulder when he closed the door, watching him, his body language. Another nod directed her to the couch. 

As she sat, she opened her mouth to ask him what was going on, but he pressed a finger to her lips and sat beside her. Startled and confused, she felt her mouth gaping open as she blinked. His strong fingers gently pressed her lower jaw upward to close her mouth.

'Sit and be quiet' was the message she took from that. Though she didn't understand why she was there if he didn't want her to do anything. Or was he just interested in company? Her mind wouldn't stop spinning with any number of explanations for why he'd called her. They ranged from 'screwing with her' to 'prelude to marriage'. She couldn't hold back the actual incredulous snort from her nose with that last one. It wasn't until she caught him arching an eyebrow at her that she realized it had been an actual sound.

"Sorry. Just - " She tipped her head at him, gave him a serious look. "Why am I here?"

House turned back to the television. "Existentialism isn't my realm," he commented. When she said nothing, he continued, "I called. You came."

Minimalistic conversation at its finest.

Cameron sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Did you want me to do something?"

"What you're doing now is fine." He took a sip from the glass on the table beside him. 'Eyes still on the television.

 _Staring at you in utter disbelief is fine? On what planet?_ Her mental chatterbox was still running at full speed and she had no idea how to stop it. "House, are you okay? Because if you need medical attention, I can do that. Are you cutting again?" She gave his arms a cursory glance. "I'm concerned... and confused. You never call me for anything, so I..." 

...was finding herself unable to speak due to the sudden press of lips against her own. Once her brain caught up, she realized it was House. Somehow, that didn't answer any more of her questions.

When he drew back, she licked her lips and gaped at him again. "Wha-? Why'd you do that? I mean, not that it was bad, I just - what's going on?" She felt ridiculous for not being able to string coherent thoughts together. He'd just given her a decent jolt she was trying to recover from and it made thinking straight problematic at best.

Rather than answer, he wagged a finger at her as he pushed from the couch. He didn't turn to see if she was following. He stepped around the couch and down the hallway. 

She did follow. 'Curious about what was going on and what he wanted from her. When she reached his bedroom - full of warm, musky smells and dim light - she stopped short just inside the doorway. "House...?" she began, but was cut off again by another warm kiss. This one more insistent. 

He kissed her and she let him. She opened herself to him, let him in. When he shifted his stance to recenter his balance, she felt his hardness brush against her hip. A little gasp rose from her throat and she had to break the kiss for air. "House, we shouldn't be doing this," she whispered. As much as she might want to do this, she really _shouldn't_ do it. 

"I need you tonight," he whispered against her ear. His voice was dry and crackled like he had gravel caught in his throat. It made her knees weak and nearly made her cry. His hands resting at the small of her back were, suddenly, the only support she had.

It took several deep breaths before she was able to respond. During those few breaths, House was exploring the area of skin below her ear. That wasn't going to help her make good decisions. The moral side of her needed to tell him 'no', that this was wrong, that sleeping with her was just a band-aid fix for a larger problem; the compassionate side of her wanted to heal the wounds, kiss it and make it better. When she felt his fingers wiggle beneath her sweater, rational thought took flight and all that was left was emotion.

She let her hand slide across his shoulder, fingers fan in his hair, holding his mouth against her throat. She let her hips rock forward enough to send a message, her thigh brush his enough to indicate desire, her lips tickle his ear enough to tease him back. She let her eyes slide closed so she could focus on the touch of his hands and the brush of his lips, both sending shivers down her spine.

He deftly unhooked her bra, then drew the sweater over her head. Her arms fell to her sides long enough to let her bra hit the floor, then she had them curled around his neck again as he drew her closer, crushing her petite breasts against his chest, pushing his hands up her back to hold her in another of his searing kisses.

Was it really that easy? All he had to do was call her, show her his 'I'm hurting' face and kiss her and she would melt into his arms and let him do whatever he wanted? 'No,' she told herself. She wouldn't be here, letting him touch her and kiss her if she didn't _want_ to be here.

That didn't mean he wasn't manipulating her. It only meant she was aware of it and was letting herself be manipulated. Mostly because her moral center had been shut into an internal closet to keep it from screaming at her, which meant all of her compassion was bubbling up to take over. Based on the way he was kissing her and brushing his fingers around the waistband of her jeans, he was acutely aware of the manipulation and that she wasn't objecting to his techniques.

She followed him to the edge of the bed, helped him push his jeans to the floor, then get hers off as well. He tugged the elastic holding her hair down the length of her ponytail and tossed it onto the nightstand. Her hair now free, he threaded his fingers into it, let the silky strands slide over his palm. That made her eyes fall closed and her head press into his hand like a cat arching into a soft stroke along its back.

He lowered his mouth to her throat, worked the skin between his lips and teeth until she was sure he'd leave a mark. She let her hands explore the warm skin of his chest and back, uncertain which she'd be able to touch later. His muscles were tense beneath her fingers; knotted up with stress or pain or something she couldn't determine. "Tell me what you need," she heard herself whisper.

For several seconds he didn't respond, then, "You. Just you."

She leaned into his touch, pressed against him. "What happened to you?" she asked, heard her own voice crack.

Again, he pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't talk." Then he guided her hands to his boxers. "Help me get these off," he said as his own hands reached for her lacy panties.

All garments out of the way, she stood naked before him and watched him take in the shapes and shadows of her body. The way he was looking at her made her blush. It had been a long time since she'd had someone looking at her, wanting her.

He stretched himself out on the bed and waved for her to join him. She slipped her fingers across his palm and braced her other hand on the bed for leverage as she crawled over him. He didn't actually help her, but he didn't hinder her either. Getting into the bed was not as easy as television made it appear. That was a little disappointing, but House didn't seem to notice.

Unsure what to do next, she lowered her head to his shoulder and pressed her lips to his throat, brushed her fingers across his chest. House grunted something and bumped her fingers with his arm. "Don't have to seduce me. I'm already on board."

"I know," she whispered. "Waiting for you. How do you want me?"

"Quiet," he snorted, as he reached to tug her across his chest. "You on top. My leg hurts."

She could be on top. 'Liked being on top with the right partner. And House could be the right partner. Taking care not to hurt him, she positioned herself over his hips. His hands came to rest on her hips and his eyes settled on her and watched her move.

With his eyes on her, she was suddenly nervous. Nervous about how she would do and what he would think of her technique. Then he brushed his thumbs over her hip bones and gave her a squeeze. He directed her toward his cock.

As suddenly as the nervousness had come, it was gone. She curled her fingers around him to guide his cock to her entrance and lowered herself, slowly, into place. Watching his eyes fall closed and his mouth drop open in a silent gasp boosted her confidence. She had never really doubted her sexual performance before, so this had been a shock to her, but his reaction helped curb that. 

She felt her own eyes close as she lowered herself into place, even before she began to move. All her movements were slow and easy. Each subconsciously done in a way that wouldn't bother his leg. It had to be subconscious, because she spent all of her thought processes on watching him, looking at his face. The way the lines smoothed away from his forehead and mouth as he relaxed beneath her, the way his fingers curled against and stroked her hips, told her this was helping. That's what she'd wanted - to help him.

Afterward, as she rested her head on his chest, panting softly against his skin, she was quiet. 'Said nothing. 'Let him brush his strong fingers up and down her back for as long as he needed. She watched her own fingers drift across his chest, parting the sprinkling of hair there. He didn't say a word the whole time.

Her eyes opened and she could only assume she'd been asleep, because there was suddenly light peeking through the curtains. Locating the little red digital display of House's clock, she made the mental calculation that she'd fallen asleep for nearly six hours. She didn't remember falling asleep. She didn't remember planning to spend the night with House.

Slight panic set in when she couldn't extricate herself from his wiry arms. He's like a python, every time she moved, he tightened his hold. Resigned to her fate - hopefully temporary - she dropped her head to his chest again and traced little patterns in his chest hair with her index finger. His breathing was even, his face relaxed, she was pretty sure he would be just fine.


End file.
